


Ten Seconds

by hannahindie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Dean Winchester - Freeform, F/M, Reader Insert, Sam Winchester - Freeform, Supernatural - Freeform, spn fanfic, supernatural fanfiction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 21:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17030508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahindie/pseuds/hannahindie
Summary: Ten seconds is all it takes for Sam to realize what he has and to lose it. How many second chances do the Winchesters get?





	1. Chapter 1

It takes ten seconds. **  
**

Each second feels like an eternity, a deafening click of the clock hands as they shift into place. Ten seconds isn’t a lot of time, but in this moment, it’s ten hours, ten days, ten years.

It’s fucking eternity.

The first second, I see her eyes widen, scared and rolling around in desperation as she grabs for the dead man’s blood that had, until that moment, been in her pocket.

Second two, we both realize that the thing that could save her, save _us_ , is missing.

Second three, she looks at me, and I think what I see is hope. Hope that I can find what she’s looking for, hope that I’ll save her from the monster that is trying to take her from us…from me.

Second four, the hope starts to fade and I can see it going. I want to scream, but I can’t, my voice locked inside me as I desperately try to locate the syringe. I manage to tear my eyes from her, but it’s nearly impossible.

By the fifth second, I’m scrambling, and calculating how great the risk would be to just tackle the vampire versus finding the dead man’s blood first. I can hear her fighting, she’s giving him hell, which also gives me a little more time. A glint to my left catches my attention.

Second six, I’m diving across the floor, the syringe almost out of sight under a desk. I’m not even sure how I saw it, nothing short of a miracle can save us at this point, but I manage to make it, my fingers wrapping around the cool, smooth plastic. I look at her and smile as if I’m trying to say everything is going to be okay.

Seconds seven and eight happen too fast, almost as if time is being compressed. I flip around and move towards the vampire who’s wrestling with Y/N, but before I can stand, a foot connects with my ribs and I fly backwards into the desk. I lose my grip on the dead man’s blood and it hits the floor, spinning away into the darkness. “Y/N!” Another kick, this time to my jaw, and the world starts to go dark. I shake my head and try to loosen the cobwebs, and my vision clears just in time to see the vampire bite deep into Y/N’s throat. She lets out a strangled cry and for a second, I’m almost positive I’m going to be sick. The sounds she is making as she struggles is not something I can even begin to describe, and I try again to get up.

Second nine feels like it’s never going to end. It’s like I’m moving in slow motion, and my heart is in my throat as I watch her struggle, her eyes rolling as blood spatters the smooth, pale skin of her throat and chin. Before I can get to her, the second vampire grabs my arm and twists it behind me and I fall back to my knees. I look up in time to see Dean appear, and I get a second wind, jamming my elbow into the vamp behind me as Dean slices the head off of the one grappling with Y/N.

Second ten, and I’m stumbling across the floor, tripping and clawing my way against the rough wooden boards to get to her. I can hear Dean behind me, taking care of the remaining vamp, but all I can focus on is her. She’s trying to hold her throat and not cry out, but the tears are rolling down her face. Her hand slips from the wound, slick from blood and tears, and I finally make it to her side and replace her hand with mine. “I’m here, I’ve got you.” Her eyes lock with mine and I realize I should have told her that a long time ago, that she’ll always have me.

All it takes is ten seconds.


	2. Chapter 2

Whiskey has never been my drink of choice, that’s more of a Dean thing, but tonight it’s doing its job. I can feel him watching me, and after about five minutes, I can’t take it anymore. “What?” 

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough of those?” 

I lock eyes with him and motion for the bartender to give me another, “You’re the one to fucking talk.” 

He glances down at his drink and shakes his head, “Yea, well, that’s usual for me. You…this isn’t you, man.” 

I toss back the shot the bartender just handed me and grimace as it burns my throat. “Yea, well, this isn’t a _usual_ situation. How can you just sit there and act like everything is fine?” 

“You know that’s bullshit, Sam. I’m tired, and devastated. I’m worried about you. But, what I’m most worried about,” he lowers his voice, eyes darting around the bar before landing back on me, “is the fact that you didn’t let me put her to rest. What is bothering me is that she’s just laying back in the room because you won’t let me touch her. We can’t leave her like that, and you know it. What is wrong with you?” 

“Y/N is gone! _That’s_ what’s wrong with me!” I slam the shot glass hard against the bar and grab my jacket from the back of the stool, “You’re so devastated, but you were damn quick to want to just…just burn her. She deserves more than some bullshit pyre, Dean. She deserves to be _alive_. It’s our fault she’s not. That… _that_ is what’s wrong with me.” 

I storm out of the bar, ignoring Dean’s voice as it echoes after me, and narrowly avoid stumbling into a couple hurrying in to avoid the rain. I stop walking and turn my face to the sky, closing my eyes as fat, cool drops shock my fevered skin. The more I think about it, the more anger replaces grief, and I can feel it building up, burning in my chest. I know Dean’s right; there’s nowhere to take her, nowhere to give her a proper burial. We don’t have any other options, and it’s not like she knew how I feel. It’s not like I told her that losing her would likely destroy me, that it would take away what hope I have left. I didn’t and now I’m left to mourn someone who had no idea she is the first person since Jess that I’ve loved. 

Dean is right. So I start walking back to the room, and though it’s raining, I take my time. I’m putting off the inevitable, but for the moment the rain feels nice, like it’s washing away my guilt of not being able to save her. It’s falling in hard, stinging drops now, the kind that feel like they could leave bruises. The street is empty, only the occasional person darting across the street or struggling with their umbrella. It reminds me of the time Y/N and I got caught in the rain during a hunt, and how frustrated she was that her best FBI outfit was all wet and wrinkled.

The thought leaves me as I stop in front of our door and is replaced by the anxiety of seeing her. I pull the key out of my pocket and slowly put it in the lock, the sound of the teeth clicking home deafening despite the sheets of rain drumming against the surrounding cars and the roof. I push the door open and step through, bracing myself for seeing her again, broken, bloody, and empty. I close the door behind me and step further into the room, only to be greeted by an empty bed. 

_What the hell?_

Panic sets in. Did someone come in here? If they had, there should be cops swarming the place. I look over to the other bed; it’s empty. 

“Sam?” I immediately look up at the bathroom door, and in the yellowish light flooding from the small room, I see a familiar outline. 

“Y/N?”

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still a little angst, language, and adult situations. -wink-

A flood of emotions hit me; relief, confusion, joy…but it quickly turns into fear and anger. That can’t be Y/N, I watched her die. No, someone… _something_ …has taken her over. A shapeshifter, maybe, or a demon. Something, anything, because I didn’t bring her back, and neither did Dean. “You aren’t Y/N.” It comes out like a growl, and it almost doesn’t sound like me at all.

“Sam, what are you talking about? It’s me.” She steps forward, her hands in front of her as if to show me she’s safe, she’s weaponless, but it can’t be her. It can’t be because her blood spilled between my fingers, no matter how hard I pressed or tightly I gripped, the blood wouldn’t stop. Her throat is still a crimson mess, and it’s soaked into her shirt.

“No, you’re not. Because _my_ Y/N died, I watched her die, I held her and watched the light leave her eyes. I _watched_ _it_. You…aren’t…Y/N.” I cross the space and get right in this abomination’s face, “You are a monster.”

“I don’t understand, why do you think-” My hand cuts her off as it grips her throat and slams her against the wall.   
  
“Stop…lying!” Her hands wrap around my wrist as she struggles against me, her eyes wide as she stares into mine.   
  
“Sam, I promise. It’s me. I don’t know what you did to get me back, but it’s me.” She strains to get the words out, and it occurs to me that she’s fighting against me as hard as she can, this isn’t an act. She’s not a demon or a shapeshifter, or a vampire. Her fear looks real and I start to relax the hold on her throat.   
  
“How…how’m I supposed to know you’re tellin’ the truth? How can I…how can I trust that?” She reaches up and brushes the hair from my eyes, swiping her thumb across my cheek; I honestly can’t tell what are tears and what is rain at this point.

“When we were fifteen years old, we stole one of Bobby’s cars and drove all the way into town to see Armageddon when it came out, and when we got back, Bobby and John both were sitting on the porch waiting for us. I thought they were going to beat our asses, and you…” she laughs at the memory as she presses her palm to my cheek and I lean into it, “you just gave them that _look_ , those big, soft eyes that no one can say no to. We didn’t even get grounded.”

No one knew that story…not even Dean. “Y/N…” I let go of her throat, and let my hand drop to my side, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” I can’t look her in the face; between not being able to save her and now attacking her, I can’t look her in the eyes. I can feel the tears now, mixing with the rain still dripping from my hair.

“It’s okay, Sam, it’s okay. It wasn’t your fault. Just please tell me that you didn’t do something dumb for me to be back…that you and Dean didn’t do some sort of deal?”

“No…we just…I didn’t want to burn you, Dean and I got into it about it, but I just left the bar. We weren’t even gone that long…”   
  
“Long enough for you to get incredibly drunk, though.”   
  
I drop my head, “Yea…that didn’t take too long.”

She pulls me into her and I can feel her warmth through my rain soaked clothes. I wrap my arms around her, and it hits me that this is real; she truly is alive. She pulls away and smooths my hair back again, “You can’t stay in these wet clothes, you’ll get sick. Come on.” She pulls me into the bathroom and shuts the door, where she looks at me expectantly.

“What?”

“You need to get out of those clothes, and get a warm shower.”

I keep staring at her, my mind going a million miles a minute. She can’t possibly mean for me to strip down in front of her. We’ve caught glimpses of each other, how can you not in a shared hotel room? But like this…never.

“Come here.” She slips my jacket off and drops it on the floor, then begins nimbly working at the buttons on my flannel. She slips that off, and her fingers dance along the edge of my t-shirt, trailing along the skin there and sending shockwaves down my spine. “Lift your arms,” she says quietly. I do as I’m told, my eyes never leaving her as I lift my arms and let her pull the soaking garment from me.

“You…umm…you’re still all bloody,” I point out, and she looks down at her shirt.

“Oh, yea…that looks pretty awful.”

“It doesn’t look comfortable,” I say as I put my hand against where she’d been been bitten. The skin is smooth and unmarred, the only sign of what happened being the dried blood smeared down her neck and onto her chest.

“It’s…it’s not.” She looks down at her shirt, and I can see the panic begin to set in; that inevitable moment where what has happened to you invades your thoughts, pushes its way into the cracks and takes hold. “Sam…I died. I was dead, that vamp…I can still feel it.” She looks up at me with panic stricken eyes, and in that moment, I totally understand how she feels. “ _I can still feel it_.”

I put my palms against her cheeks and make sure she’s looking at me, “But you’re back. You’re back, and regardless of how it happened, it’s real. You’re here with me.” I wipe away a tear that’s trailing down her cheek, and she closes her eyes. My heart is racing; I don’t know if this is the time or not, but then again…when is it ever? “Maybe we should get you cleaned up, too.” I say it quietly, afraid of what her reaction might be. She opens her eyes slowly and looks at me for a moment before nodding in agreement.

I gently grab the hem of her shirt, and wait for her permission. She nods again and I pull it off of her, tossing it in the floor to join mine. I reach down and unbuckle my belt, letting my jeans slip to the floor, then step out of them. She does the same, and we both stand silently and look at each other.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut adjacent. It's not super detailed, but it's there.

****

She’s perfect. I’ve known for a long time she was, but looking at her now…my imagination couldn’t even begin to do her justice. Although her neck wound is gone, it seems the rest of her scars are still there. I know the stories behind most of them, but there are a few I don’t recognize. I step towards her, at the same time reaching out and turning on the water to let it warm up. I can still see the fear in her eyes, and I know what she’s seeing; it’s hard not to continuously replay the moment of your death. In fact, it’s damn impossible. 

“Turn around.” She turns without saying a word, and I slowly unhook her bra and pull it from her arms. I hear her take a sharp breath and I pull away. “Are you okay?” She nods, and leans back into me, her bare back warm against my chest. 

“I’m fine, I just…I never expected this.” 

“We can stop,” I say quietly. I don’t want to, _God_ do I not want to, but if this is too much for her, it can’t happen. 

“No, it’s not that, not at all.” She turns to face me and smiles, despite the tears that I know are threatening to fall any moment. “I’ve wanted this for a long time, and now that it’s happening, I’m scared.” 

Of course she’s scared. Nobody lasts long around me, it’s like a curse, and if she wants to run, I can’t blame her. I duck my head to avoid looking at her, “I get it, the Winchesters don’t exactly come with a great track record or good luck.” 

I feel her fingers under my chin and I look back up at her. “That’s not what I’m scared of. I’m scared of making you feel the way you felt when you thought I was gone. I’m afraid of hurting you. I’m afraid that whatever brought me back is going to use it against you. But don’t you dare ever think that I’m scared of _you._ ” 

And then it happens; her lips connect with mine, softly, almost like a whisper. I feel her fingers hook under the elastic of my boxers and push down, and then suddenly we’re both under the hot water, my hands tangle in her hair as we crash into each other. It’s somewhere between easy and desperate; I want to take my time, but her body against mine is too much. I need to feel her, I need to know that I’m not just imagining this, and I can tell by the way she tugs my bottom lip between her teeth that she does too. 

Everything is a blur. I’m trying to memorize what she feels like, smooth skin under my rough hands, how she tastes, but there’s so many things happening at once. She’s pressing against me, rolling her hips and whispering my name into the water like some sort of secret, a hidden desire she’s been holding tightly until this moment. 

Suddenly my hands are gripping her ass and her legs are wrapped around me, and it’s like the world stops. All I can see and feel is her. It’s like everything that was wrong just ceases to exist, and despite the fact that we most definitely have to worry about how she was brought back, in the moment…I don’t give a damn. 

Then…it’s over. She says my name with a strangled moan, her head tilted back into the water, and just the sight of that is enough to bring me over the edge, too. She slowly unwraps her legs and I begrudgingly let go of her, careful that she doesn’t fall as I set her down, but her eyes never leave mine. Those eyes that hold so much love, that I never thought would look at me the way she’s looking at me now, they stare straight into me, and it’s like I’m on fire. I don’t know how this is going to end, but she’s here. 

She’s alive.


	5. Chapter 5

The first thing I notice when I start to wake up is the heavy warmth of an arm draped across my stomach. For a split second, I forget about the events of the night before and I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, not wanting to see what mistake I made in a fit of drunken grief. But then the arm pulls me closer, the thumb rubs a soft circle against my hip bone and everything comes back to me. 

_Y/N._  

She’s alive, and I breathe a sigh of relief. She’s _alive_ , and with that, some sense that maybe there is something still good with this world. 

A sudden crash suddenly reminds me that we may have settled one thing, but we forgot an important piece of the puzzle. 

“Sam! What the hell, man?!” 

_Dean_.

“Huh?” Y/N stretches, brushing hair out of her eyes as she squints at Dean. 

“Oh…oh thank God for that.” Dean runs a hand over his face, then it hits him and his jaw drops. “Y/N?!” 

She smiles sheepishly, “Hey, Dean.” 

“What the…when did…were you gonna tell me?!” 

“Sorry, we just…well, we were a little… _busy_.” I raise an eyebrow and Dean gets even more flustered when he realizes Y/N isn’t wearing anything, the sheet pooled around her waist. She realizes it at the same time and hurriedly yanks it up and smiles again. 

“This is weird. There are so many weird things about this…I can’t…please, get dressed. Just…get dressed.” Dean stomps out of the room and slams the door shut behind him. Y/N starts laughing as soon as the door closes and I can’t help but join her. Soon, tears are pouring down my face, and she’s wiping her eyes with the back of her hand while gasping for air. I know that soon, the humor will disappear and we’ll have to face whatever it was that brought her back. But for now, seeing her skin glow as she laughs at Dean’s reaction is worth it. 

“Did you see his face?” She gasps out between hiccuping laughter. 

“You should have seen it when he thought you were still dead.” She laughs harder and falls back into the pillows, one hand covering her mouth but failing to muffle the sound. 

“ _Yea, this is hilarious! I’m sure nothing bad is gonna come from this, laugh it up!_ ” Dean’s irritated voice makes it through the door, which throws Y/N into another fit of giggles. 

My laughter trails off; Dean is right. Nothing good ever comes from seemingly spontaneous resurrection, there’s always a hitch, and I’m afraid our happiness might be it. 

“Sam…it’s okay.” Y/N grasps my chin gently and makes me look at her. The laughter is gone, but there’s a spark in her eyes that makes it easy to believe her. “We’ll figure this out. But until then, let’s just…enjoy _us_ , huh? Let’s appreciate the most likely short calm before the storm, and we’ll handle whatever gets thrown at us.” She kisses me, then leans her forehead against mine. 

I sigh, “You’re right.” A banging echoes through the room and I can’t help but chuckle. “Let’s get dressed before Dean breaks down the door.” She nods, kisses me on the forehead, and bounds out of bed and over to her bag. 

I don’t care what’s about to happen. I could get used to this.


End file.
